Skin Deep
by SweetTale4u
Summary: Hermione doesn't feel beautiful, it is up to Severus Snape to show her otherwise. A short story of comfort and sex. My entry into the ninth round of the 2015 Hermione Smut Fest on Live Journal
1. The Proposal

**A/N: This is my entry in the Hermione Smut Fest on Live Journal. Make sure to head on over there and show them your love. Lots of wonderful entries, all starring your favourite bookworm.**

 **I own nothing except the story. The characters are all JK's, I am merely playing in her sandbox.**

 **A big heartfelt thank you to araeofsomething my beta and gloryandfame for her eyes and ears.**

 **Without further ado...**

* * *

The old rusty bell chimed as she entered the dark shop at the end of the alley. The small apothecary was dark and musty with the smell of dying or dead things kept in mason jars. Herbs and other plants hung from the rafters and the termite eaten wood creaked beneath her loafers. The clank of the door closing startled her for a moment before she straightened her coat and remembered who she was and why she was here.

She moved as silently as she could through the small aisles of the store looking for the ingredients she needed for the potion. A rare and exotic text had spoken of a remedy for her malady and she hoped above all hope that she would find the elusive ingredients here. The smell of herbs and spices assaulted her senses and she was reminded of her days as a student at Hogwarts. It seemed like so long ago since she had wandered the hallowed halls of that magical place. Everything seemed so long ago to Hermione. The war had changed everyone, and not for the better in some instances.

For Hermione, she had been left with scars, both emotional and physical that would continue to haunt her to this day. Intimacy had been almost impossible. She could see the disgust in Ron's eyes as his cock went flaccid when he viewed her that first time she trembled nude in his presence. She couldn't blame him; he had been a child. He didn't know what his rejection would do to her.

In the decade since she had finished school and secured a high paying career as a private consultant for ministry muggle relations. It kept her behind the scenes and well paid. It was what she wanted but it had left her lonely.

She fingered the small sideboard, her finger lifting up the top layer of dust as she pondered her fate.

"Will you be dusting the entire shop? If so, I can fetch you a more suitable instrument." The deep voice came from behind her and she turned quickly bumping into the sideboard and then falling forward into the open arms of the shop keeper. Holding her by the elbows she froze at the contact before lifting her eyes to meet those of her former professor, Severus Snape.

"Miss Granger, what a...unexpected pleasure to see you," he smirked as he helped put her back to rights. With a wave of his hand the items that had been tipped over righted themselves on the table. Straightening his jacket he stood at his full height and looked down at her. The light from behind him kept his face hidden but she swore she almost saw his eyebrow arch at her.

"Professor, thank you, I mean, I'm sorry, you startled me," she righted herself and stepped out from in front of him and walked towards the front counter. She pulled at the collar of her turtleneck as if on instinct. Old habits die hard, she knew he couldn't see her well in the dim light of the store, she still feared his open derision.

He walked around to behind the counter, his movements as fluid as when he dominated his classroom.

"What brings you to my shop Miss Granger or have you married?" he asked as he crossed his arms and watched her openly.

She shuffled from foot to foot and nervously tucked an errant curl into the bun at the base of her neck. "It's still Granger," she said.

Severus Snape watched his former student. He could tell she was hiding something. Years of experience in subterfuge had trained him to not only hide from other but to also tell when someone was doing the same. He had not heard much about the girl after the war. He had spent a few months in hospital recovering from his injuries and another six months in prison awaiting the ministry and their decision to clear his name. Evidence presented by Kingsley and Arthur Weasley had helped clear his name, that and the living will that Dumbledore had left had made it clear that Severus Snape was always working for the Order.

The public however had not been that forgiving. He had found solace in his potions and purchased an apothecary from an old associate that was far from wizarding London. However, there was a saying that the world is a village and into his village walked one of his former students, one that didn't resemble the harridan student he once taught but instead a beautiful young woman.

Using his years of training he pressed slightly into her thoughts, just a brief caress and was surprised to see what she was there to buy. This would mean that she wished to remove something from either her person or that of another. It was highly dangerous to attempt this kind of magical balm but he could sense the desperation in her eyes as they darted from side to side in search of the needed ingredients.

"Would you like some tea Miss Granger? It isn't often that I get to see any of my former charges," he said, his voice calm and soothing. He wanted her to relax so that he could find out just what she wanted to accomplish.

He motioned with his arm to the back of the shop. She looked at him for a moment then nodded, pulling her satchel closer to her side she stepped around the glass display and followed him into his office. The shop had a loft apartment above the shop and an office behind the store. He pointed his wand to the sign at the front of the store and it switched to off. It was twilight, and knowing his clientele there would be no more for the day. It was Friday night and it usually was quiet all weekend. Most of his work was mail order except for the occasional visitor like the lovely Miss Granger.

He motioned for her to take a seat and he worked to set the kettle on. He pulled a bottle of plum brandy from his stores and infused the newly brewed tea with just a dash of the rich liquor. It was the end of autumn and the temperatures always dropped in the evening hours.

He set the steaming cup in front of her on his desk and lit the grate in the hearth. He could hear rather than see her removing her gloves to pick up the dainty cup of tea. He stoked the wood in the grate and waited for it to roar to life. Replacing the poker, he rounded his desk and took a seat across from her.

Waiting until he had seen her take a few sips of the brew he picked up his own cup and joined her. Setting his cup down, he simply watched her until she finally made eye contact with him.

He worked his finger over a particularly worn knot on the top of his desk and waited. He knew it would not take her long to say something. He had taught her for years and knew that while she might not raise her hand, a question was certainly brewing beneath the surface.

"Is this your shop?"

And there it was.

He smiled and took another drink from his cup. He had added a bit more brandy to his own cup and enjoyed the lingering smoky taste on his tongue and the warmth as it coated his throat. The colder nights meant more pain for the aging wizard. Adjusting his cravat he sat back and put his cup down.

"Yes Miss Granger, this is my shop," he said.

"It's...well, it's...interesting," she lied, trying to find something nice to say of the crumbling façade.

The office they were in was nothing like the front of the store. He allowed himself comfort and luxury in his living space. The chairs were soft leather, the carpet a dark wine color, while the desk was a rich cherry wood. It was completely at odds with the front of the store that served a purpose. The air of mystery allowed for a certain kind of discerning customer who was more than likely to pay more for his silence than the actual ingredients he sold. Others simply stayed away which served him fine. His days were mainly devoted to reading and brewing, except for today.

Today she was here.

Why was she here?

"What can I help you find Miss Granger?"

"I was just looking really, nothing in particular," she said shifting slightly in her chair. This had been a mistake, she couldn't tell him what she wanted, he would know.

He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly, thinking on her response.

"I think I should go," she stood quickly and felt the effects of the tea and she swayed slightly.

"Have a seat Miss Granger; it would seem that you are what muggles call a 'lightweight' when it comes to imbibing alcohol. Tell me, have you eaten?"

She sat down hard on the soft chair and felt the whoosh of air from the soft leather. "Well I worked through lunch and just thought I would have a pot noodle when I returned home."

"So you apparated here or took a portkey?"

"I apparated twice to get here, I was told that this was..." her voice trailed off, she had said too much already. She wondered if he had infused her drink with veritaserum as well as brandy.

"That you could what Miss Granger?" he pushed, his long finger playing around the rim of his cup as he watched for her reaction.

She knew she'd been caught. She thought about lying but knew it would be futile to try and deceive someone like Snape.

"I was told this was the place that I could find ingredients that are not readily available elsewhere," she wouldn't say more.

He scoffed lightly and pursed his lips a bit as he leaned back into his chair, his arms crossing at his chest.

He was familiar with his shop's reputation which was why he was so surprised to see her. He was sure she was expecting the same surly and snarky man he had been so long ago, but he just didn't want to be that man anymore. He had gotten a new lease on life and regardless of whether the wizarding world wanted him or not he was here to stay. It had not been easy. His convalescence and incarceration had been difficult and trying. In Azkaban he had been beaten daily by those that thought him a traitor to the Dark Lord. Once outside he was spat on and ran almost completely out of town by the salacious articles in the Prophet. It didn't help that there was no use for a washed up spy or a former teacher. Hogwarts would remain closed for almost five years before it would open again. Now a decade after the final battle, there were still those trying to rebuild, Severus was just one of those poor unfortunate souls. Had it not been for his incomparable potion skills his life would have taken another route all together after the war.

Although, looking at the former student that sat across from him, he knew he was not the only one that was still trying to rebuild.

He didn't want to push her, so he returned to his initial question.

"Have dinner with me," he said as he stood.

Hermione's eyes widened at the invitation and her mouth gaped open for a moment before closing it loudly. She wondered why he would extend such an invitation.

"Ummm..." she murmured and then decided that it wouldn't be that bad to eat, if she was honest, she was hungry and maybe if she simply ate with him she could bring up the subject of what she needed to brew her balm.

Grabbing his long coat off a hook by the door he turned to her and extended his arm, "shall we go?"

"Yes," she said as she donned her gloves again and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

They didn't apparate; they instead walked along the deserted road outside his shop. The street lights were dim but the light of the moon was strong enough to illuminate even the darkest of corners in the old mill town. It had gotten colder and she found herself grateful for his presence next to her.

They walked for a few minutes in silence; the only sound was their steps and the occasional passing car. It had rained and the sound of the tires against the pavement was soothing to Hermione.

Hermione was just beginning to think about how long it had been since she'd walked with anyone let alone a man when he stopped walking and motioned them into an old pub. The Spanish style tavern was named La Paloma and Severus seemed at ease within its dimly lit walls.

The hostess, an older woman with long dark hair and hooped gold earrings sat them in back booth. They had a clear view of the lone guitar player than strummed his guitar amidst the clinking of glasses and the din of hushed voices from the bar patrons.

Hermione removed her gloves and her coat but made sure her sweater covered her neck at all times.

"You should really wear your hair down Miss Granger," he said nonchalantly not looking up from the menu he was perusing.

"Uh...really? I mean, it was not always my best feature, I mean, I was often told it was frizzy and unmanageable," she said as she touched the bun tentatively checking to see if it was still in place.

"That's nonsense, I would imagine that it has taken on a much more grown up look to it, go ahead, remove the pins."

She found herself obeying. She made to use her wand when he stopped her by touching his long finger to her wrist.

"No magic, use your hands," he said. His voice was low and soothing. He held her wrist for a moment, his thumb rubbing her pulse point and her breath caught in her throat.

She didn't know why, maybe years of having done so as a student had her obeying him. She dug in her thick hair bun and one by one she extracted each and every pin that held her mane in place.

"Now, run your fingers through it," he said, sipping from the glass of sangria the hostess had bought to the table, his eyes never leaving hers.

She knew what running her fingers through her hair would do and she paused for a moment.

"Go on, dig your fingers into that luscious mane and let your inner lioness free," he smiled as he bought the glass to his lips again. She blushed under his gaze and found herself digging her fingers deep into the hair at the base of her neck and feeling that delicious sensation of relaxation that only came at the end of a long day.

She closed her eyes and couldn't help the moan that escaped from her lips before recovering quickly and embarrassing herself further.

"I'm sorry," she found herself apologizing. It didn't help that Snape had not taken his eyes off her the entire time.

"Don't, it was mesmerizing," he said. His voice had taken on a rougher quality. She figured it was the wine or the smoky room.

Severus watched her as she tucked some of her free curls behind her ears and peered down at the menu in front of her. He ate here often and used the excuse of reading to properly observe her. It was obvious to him that she was not comfortable with her own body, let alone her own beauty. It was if she was unaware of just how beautiful she was.

This would not suffice.

He motioned for Elena the waitress and ordered for both of them. To his surprise Granger did not protest instead attempted to hide a small smile. It was obvious she had never been treated with any chivalry. He would remedy this as well. He didn't know why but he was intrigued with his former pupil.

Setting aside his menu he leaned in and spoke in sotto voice to his former student.

"Is there a man in your life Miss Granger? Or a _woman?_ _"_

She faltered at his question and shook her head, unable to find the words to respond to his query. He'd always been direct as her professor; she wasn't surprised he was like this in his every day dealings.

"Good, I don't wish to step on any toes as they say," he said.

"I-I don't understand," she asked confused.

"I wish to wine and dine you and take you to my bed. I would hate for there to be any impediments," he said straightening up and emptying his glass.

He sat and waited. He watched as the emotions played out on her face, he could almost see the thoughts and feel her trepidation and excitement as it rolled off her in waves. The increase in the rise and fall of her chest told him he'd hit a spot. She was more than interested, she was aroused.

"It shouldn't be difficult to comprehend Miss Granger, I am a man, you are a beautiful woman, why shouldn't we drink and fuck?"

"I-I-m not that type of woman Professor...I mean Snape..."

"Severus, please call me Severus. I have often wondered what it would sound like rolling off that lovely tongue of yours," he smirked at the color that rose in her cheeks. He didn't need to read her mind to know she was titillated. He could almost smell the arousal coming off her, she was so tightly wound he wondered how she was even able to sit down.

"Whatever you want me to call you; I find your proposal indecent!"

She made to stand but his hand on her thigh stopped her, she could feel the heat radiate from where it rested.

"Don't be silly girl, you know you don't want to leave," he said. He leaned in closer to her in the booth and whispered into her ear, "I can smell the arousal coming off of you, I'm sure if I let my hand wander a little higher I would find your knickers moist with need," he finished by lightly squeezing her thigh.

His words made her falter and she sat back against the back of the booth, her breath ragged and her mind dizzy. He was right, she was intrigued by his bold proposal but she was also terrified. Surely if he saw what Ron had seen that night so many years ago, he would be just a disgusted and leave running never to be seen again.

This was a man however, a man that had seen the darkest of humanity, surely he wouldn't let some physical deformity stop him. It was now or never, she might as well take the bull by the horns.


	2. Acceptance

Hermione allowed her mind to process his proposition, to allow the idea of being seduced by her former professor to fill her mind. It would be a lie if she said she'd never fantasized about the dark man but that had been tinged with the innocence of adolescence. She certainly had never known this side of the man. Hermione had only known the surly professor, not the man behind the curtain of dark hair. She had been so lonely, so desperate for human contact. She looked everywhere except at the man sitting beside her. She let her periphery vision take him in, the dark slightly greying hair of his temple, the clean and crisp white shirt beneath the dark jacket. He was in stark contrast to the muted earth tones of the tavern. Even in the low light he seems to darken the corner where they sat away from the other patrons. She watched with fascination as his long fingers wrapped elegantly around his glass, the way his full lips opened to allow a brief glimpse of his pink tongue before drinking deeply from the goblet. She felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature outside caress the hair at the nape of her neck and she nervously fingered the edge of the maroon napkin on the table.

"Blessed silence," she heard him whisper. The soft music thrumming from the Spanish guitar paled in comparison to the dulcet tones of his velvety voice and she imagined what it would sound like at the height of lovemaking, to roll around naked in it.

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and stopped to tug at her ear lobe. A habit picked up as a child that she'd never been able to shake. She saw his eyes hungrily take in the motion of her hand, the way his eyes lingered on her hair on the motion of her fingers at her neck. The way his eyes devoured her features made her incredibly aware of how close he was. Leaning over to her she could smell the faint traces of herbs mixed with the fresh fruit in the wine. It was an intoxicating scent and she found herself turning her face to take in more of it, to be enveloped by it. He was so close, she could feel his breath against her face.

"Hermione, don't fight it, give in, what have you to lose," he said. Reaching out one of his lovely hands, he stilled the nervous movements of her fingers

She risked looking at him and gasped at the lust she could see in his eyes, the sincerity of his countenance. How had she not noticed just how deep those pools of obsidian went?

"I…" she stuttered, she couldn't finish.

Brushing his lips against her fingers still clutched in his hand before releasing it. Tossing some muggle money on the table and made to stand, stretching out a hand to her she looked at it before inhaling deeply and standing, the firm grip of his hand made her feel secure.

She hadn't felt like that in a long time.

They walked out in silence, their steps on the deserted street was the only sound besides their breathing. The jingle of his keys as he unlocked the side door of his shop drew her momentarily away from her silent contemplation. He took their coats and hung them carefully on a polished brass hook on the wall by the stairs. Severus turned and motioned for her to follow him and she did.

Once again lost in her thoughts she wondered just what the man had in mind for her. Hermione was not that naïve, she had an inkling of what the man wanted but why her? She had never had more than her intellect to offer. This man did not need her intellect; he was brilliant in his own right. He was a man that had courted and cheated death for years and had served at the foot of two of the most powerful masters in their time. There was nothing she could offer him.

They entered what Hermione surmised was his flat. There was a small foyer that led to a hallway with two heavy wooden doors on either side. It was mainly dark except for two dimly lit lamps on a side table between two of the doors.

"Come," he said. It was all he said as he led her into a spacious room with a small library, a fireplace and a couple of rich leather chairs. It was in stark contrast to the meagre and paltry shop below. The walls were dressed in dark wallpaper and books lined the rich mahogany shelves that covered most of the walls in the room.

"Remove your shoes," he said as he waved a hand and the fire roared to life in the grate. She toed off her shoes and let her feet sink decadently into the rich dark carpet that covered the floor. She watched as he prepared a drink and using two fingers popped opened the top two buttons of his white shirt. He'd removed his top coat and remained in a dark vest that provided the most alluring silhouette of his lean figure. She licked her lips nervously as she stood in the center of the room and watched him. She pressed her hand to the high neck of her sweater as if to hold it in place, her other hand resting gently against her abdomen, she shifted slightly from foot to foot.

She didn't know what she was waiting for, how she had allowed herself to be put in this position but for the first time in her life she didn't care to figure it out. She was beyond thought or logic. She'd come here looking for one thing but finding something completely different.

What she did care about however, was what this enigmatic man would say once he saw her for the first time. To see her without the glamour that had become a part of her everyday life, much the same way she donned her clothes, there was never a moment that she didn't wear the glamour that covered her scars.

She watched him drink deeply from the tumbler in his hand. He walked over to the only window in the room and looked out into the night; his eyes alight with the faint lights of the city below. His look was a faraway one, one of a man that has seen his share of darkness, his share of the impossible. She wondered for a moment what rested behind those eyes, what mysteries made up this man.

He turned and looked at her, his eyebrow reaching high up on his forehead.

"Take it off," he said, motioning to the large turtleneck that covered most of her body down past her rear.

She thought about arguing about becoming indignant and to refuse, but she didn't want to. Something in the pit of her stomach and further below pulled at her to obey, to do what he said, that she would be safe.

"Do you need assistance?" he said as he set the glass on the table by the fire and walked to her. Before she could say anything his hands were at her sides and the sweater was being lifted up and over her head. Her hair fell onto her bare shoulders in tumble of curls, she moved to use the hair to her advantage but he stopped her movements.

"Don't, let me see you," he said. His hands firm on hers as he gently lowered her hands to her sides.

She couldn't look at him; she let her eyes wander to the corner of the room, to the small spider web that clung fiercely to the sides of the wall. It sat empty waiting for its master to return. She wondered briefly if she had wandered into his web.

"Remove the glamour or I will do it for you," he said, giving her the opportunity to comply, she didn't know if she could form the words with her lips to remove the enchantment, for so long it had haunted her. For so long she had used it.

"F-f-finite..." she whispered. The air around her hummed and the enchantment was gone.

She expected that he would recoil in disgust. She imagined he would turn on his heel and leave her there broken and exposed.

Instead one of the fingers of his hand reached out and lifted her chin, as she looked up at him, tears that had been in her eyes fell gently onto the skin of her cheeks, the swell of her breasts.

"Is this what you wanted to cure? Is this what you wanted that potion for?" She felt a finger of his other hand reach out and trace the scar on her neck and chest then moving to caress the carved word that blackened the skin of her forearm. His touch made her skin ache; it burned with a need she hadn't realized could be possible.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. She watched as he took in her scars and sighed. Stepping back from her she immediately felt colder, she felt the sting of rejection. It lasted only until he began to undo the buttons of his vest, each one slipping slowly through his agile fingers. Tossing the garment to the floor he began to slowly and deliberately pull from his trousers his white shirt, his hand making quick work of the buttons down the front and on his sleeves. Once he'd undone the last button he opened his shirt to reveal the alabaster skin below. She gasped softly at what she saw. Across the hard plains of his chest she saw an untold number of scars. Each one either touching or gently intersecting another, silvery traces danced upon his skin depicting a tableau of pain and suffering. Severus stood proud and allowed her to appraise him, to take in all of him. followed each scar with her eyes; she also took in the shape of this man, the way his broad shoulders turned into slim hips that dipped beautifully into his trousers. The fingers on her hand twitched with the desire to reach out and touch him, to caress his skin, to feel every bump. Even the fading dark mark on his forearm held a forbidden morbid fascination.

"Every single one tells a story Hermione, each one a reminder of a choice in my life. I could have used the potion on myself and ended my misery but instead I allow them to remain on my body because they are skin deep. No potion will remove the agony or pain I lived when I received them. They made me the man I am today, as awful as that is," he finished, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You aren't awful..." her voiced trailed away, she knew what people thought of him, she'd thought it herself once or twice as a student, but now, she couldn't reconcile it even as the same man.  
She needed to know why.

"Why? If you have the means to get rid of them why would you keep them?" She pled, not understanding why he wouldn't want to.

"Don't you understand, even if I removed each and every one of them, even the dark mark, it would not the memory of what I lived. Sometimes we need to keep these reminders so as to ground us, to keep us sane in this sea of uncertainty," he said as he took a step closer to her.

"It is different for you, I look, I mean, look at me, what man would want to look at this?" she motioned to her body. She thought back to when she'd gotten the hideous scar. She touched her finger to the puckered and raised skin and remembered the feel of that hot fang as it had pierced her tender flesh. At first she'd felt proud of facing the beast that had taken her professor down, but before she could finish it, Neville had ended its life. She hadn't noticed the warm blood staining her shirt, spilling freely from her neck, the venom making the wound pulse. Poppy had healed her but the scar would not fade. The gagging noise Ron had made when he'd seen it had haunted her ever since.

He cocked his head to the side and smirked putting his hands in his pockets as he slowly shook his head in disbelief.

"I am looking at you Hermione, in case you hadn't realized it yet, I haven't taken my eyes off you since you walked in my shop."

She ran her hand through the mess of her hair, the nervous habit felt good to do, it grounded her. The motion did not go unnoticed. She watched him follow her motions once again.

"What do you want from me? Can you help me or not?" she begged, her voice exasperated. She still didn't know what he wanted.

"That's simple Hermione, I want to take you to my bed and show you just how beautiful you really are, if you aren't convinced, when the morning comes, I will have the potion ready for you and we can go about our lives as if nothing occurred."

Anger welled inside her, "I don't want or need your pity Snape!"

She grabbed her sweater from the floor and spun angrily on her heel heading for the door. As she made to pull the door open his hand slammed it shut and he turned her to face him. For the first time in a long time she felt fear, fear mixed with something else. As he rose to his full height and regardless of his partial undress, he was still intimidating.

"Does this feel like pity?" he ground his hardness against her. Her eyes closed slightly as her mouth opened and a groan escaped her lips.

"Is this pity?" stepping just slightly away he ran his tongue down the column of her neck over the scar to the space where her neck met her shoulder. His hands no longer held the door closed instead wandered to her hands, holding them up above her head, a whispered spell securing them.

A moan escaped her lips her traitorous body seeking out his touch. He roughly pulled down the cup of her bra, his greedy mouth capturing her plump breast. His tongue and teeth roamed the soft flesh of her breast, lips sucked hungrily at her nipple, teeth leaving a trail of nips and bites.

His hands wandered her body, pushing together the creamy globes of her voluptuous breasts as he buried his face between them. She felt the beginnings of a beard and the sensation of the course hair on her skin drove her mad with need. He ripped the bra from her body tossing it to the ground before returning to her breasts. He caressed and kissed each one, his mouth sucking and nipping at the aching tips pulling and bruising each one making her cry out in wanton ecstasy.

He stepped back and looked at her. Her hair covered most of her face; it stuck to the sweat of her face and neck. She watched him as he walked back over to the table by the fire and poured himself another drink of the smoky flavoured bourbon. She watched the sensual motion of his throat as he swallowed and licked her lips, wondering what that skin tasted like.

Hermione felt wanton and debauched by the attentions he'd paid to her, she leaned against the door heavily, her hands still above her head, her breasts naked to the warm air of the room.

He turned again towards her, his eyes roaming the expanse of her exposed skin and sat heavily on the leather of the chair closest to the fire.

His legs sprawled, one hand hung over the side still gripping the top of his glass, his other hand rubbed his lips as he continued to look at her.

"Take them off," he waved his hand and the spell that held her to the door was cancelled, her hands fell softly to her sides. She lazily pushed her sweat soaked hair off her face and allowed herself a better look at the man sitting across from her. She watched as he undid the buckle of his leather belt and opened the placket of his trousers.

He stopped when he saw her staring. Mesmerized by his motions, she hadn't moved.

"Go on girl, lose the jeans," he stared her down, willing her to comply. She saw the bulge in his trousers twitch and her hands moved to the button of her jeans.

As she lowered the zip of her jeans she watched his hand disappear into the open placket of his trousers. She watched as he rubbed the hard length that hid beneath and her throat went dry. She'd never experienced anything like this, never been on display, and definitely never been privy to such an erotic display.

She shimmied out of her jeans enjoying the feel as they uncovered the swell of her thick hips and shapely legs. She used her foot to kick them away and stood only in a pair of pristine white knickers. She heard his breath hitch as she stood up and stood back against the door.

"Turn around," he said, his voice raspy and thick. She heard the ice clink in the glass as he took another drink. With her back to him she wondered what he saw, what he wanted to see, she was nothing special.

"Put your hands against the door," he said and she obeyed, placing one hand on either side of her head. Gooseflesh danced across her pale skin at the sound of his voice.

Then she felt him, he was behind her, his body almost touching her. The open leather of his belt touched the skin of her back and she knew he hadn't disrobed. His hands came up to caress her arms from her wrists down to her shoulders and then down her sides, his fingers slightly grazing the side of her breasts as they pressed against the cool wood of the door, her nipples hardening from a combination of his touch and the feel of the wood against her skin.

One of his hands brushed the hair away from her neck and his mouth came close to her ear, his tongue darting out to outline the shell of her ear. She hissed at the warmth of his mouth as he took her earlobe into his mouth, his body pressing her closer to the door.

"At dinner I wondered how this ear would feel in my mouth, I know you saw me staring," he said, his breath warm and spicy in her ear. He pushed closer to her, his cock against the plump flesh of her still covered backside. She wanted to rub herself against him, to push back into him.

"Do it, let yourself go girl," his whispered between wet kisses to the tender flesh of her neck and shoulder. So she did, she pushed her bottom against his engorged cock and felt a rush of pride when she heard him hiss in her ear.

"That's it my girl, let me feel you, let me see your ecstasy," he whispered his strong hands on her hips as he pulled her closer against him, his cock rubbing deliciously between the fleshy globes of her arse.

"Oh god," she whimpered, she could feel her walls clenching, her release coming when he stopped. His fingers hooked on either side of her knickers and pulled them down, the movement bringing him face to face with her core. He remained kneeling behind her as she stepped out of her knickers.

"Leave your hands on the door," he ordered, his hands caressing the newly exposed flesh. He pulled her hips away from the wall so she stood slightly bent at the waist. His beautiful hands, the hands she'd admired at dinner felt deliciously decadent against her warm skin.

"So beautiful," she heard him say before feeling his tongue lap at her center, his face buried deep between her legs.

Her knees threatened to buckle under his onslaught, she'd never felt so much, his tongue inside her and around her clit made her squirm and push back onto his eager tongue. His fingers caressed her folds and kept her open to him, one finger gingerly caressing her puckered hole, spreading her wetness around before gently dipping into her.

"Oh, oh yes," she moaned, one hand coming around to hold his head to her cunt while his finger pumped into her arse.

His other hand caressing her leg came up to feel the folds of her tight cunt. He pulled away and inserted one then two fingers deep inside her. Sitting back a bit he watched as he fucked her arse and her cunt with his fingers, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me my beautiful girl," he whispered and that was all it took. She screamed, tears falling from her eyes. Her legs shook and she buckled under the onslaught of pleasure that overcame her. He caught her in his arms and held her gently to him, whispering into her ear as his hands caressed her hair and her face. She was trembling with pleasure and overcome with emotion. She felt safe in his arms, he held her close and she inhaled his scent and felt the warmth of being enveloped by his body. The tears were soon replaced by the renewed throbbing of arousal. His cock hard beneath her made her aware of just how much she affected this man.

"Stand," he said and she did. He stood and turned back towards his chair before sitting however he removed his trousers allowing his cock to spring free. Her eyes widened at the sight of naked flesh, she could feel the color infusing her cheeks again.

"Come," he ordered. She walked over to where he sat and stood before him. His legs slightly open his cock standing hard and erect; he looked relaxed when he took his shaft in hand and began caressing the hard flesh and leaned back in his chair.

"Ride me," he said. "Here, let me help," he motioned to her to sit astride him, each knee on either side of him, his hardness jutting up at her proximity, the warmth and feel of the course hair of his legs against hers was almost enough to make her sigh aloud. She placed her hands on his hard stomach and waited for instructions. She'd never done this before; she didn't know what to do.

She finally looked at him, she made contact with those dark black orbs that had mesmerized her as a child and now held her captive. One of his hands came up around her neck, grazing the scar that had haunted her so long, to bury itself in the thick curls at the nape of her neck before he pulled her down and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth.

She sighed into his mouth and he pulled back to look at her again, "You are in control Hermione, show me," he whispered before kissing her again, this time gently nibbling her bottom lip. She sat back gently and watched him take his cock in hand. He stroked it again, his hand twisting slightly on the down stroke. She'd never seen something so erotic, so mouthwatering.

His other came up to grip her waist and gently maneuver her over him. Before moving her onto him he looked and waited for her to respond. Putting of her hands on the back of the chair she lifted herself and with her other hand she placed him at her moist opening. She ached with a need she'd kept unsatisfied for too long and regardless of whatever pain would come she sank slowly onto his cock. The sting was minimal as she took more of him deeper into her channel. The slow burning stretch was too much.

"Help me please..." she said, her eyes pleading for him to take control, even if only for a moment.

He was looking up at her, his face straining with pent up desire. No sooner had she asked did he slam her down onto his cock, filling her completely. He wrapped his arms around her and cooed in her ear, "that's a good girl, just let it fill you love."

She trembled as the words washed over her and she felt empowered by this man's worship. She moved slightly and felt his arms tightened a bit more around her, his mouth worshiping the skin of her neck, his tongue drawing patterns on her damp skin. Sitting up she grabbed the back of the chair on either side of his head and moved her hips.

"Ohhh fuck...yes...that's a good girl," he hissed as his hands moved over her breasts and stomach to land on her hips.

She moved again, her inexperience was winning out but she moved the way that made her feel good and saw her reward in the way she heard his slight panting.

His hands came up to cup her breasts and he sat up to lick the sweat from between the valley of her breasts. The fire burned brighter in the grate and she moved in a rhythm unknown to her. Muscles unused to these new movements flexed and ached but the delicious feel of him moving inside her as she moved up and down on his cock was enough to push her harder and faster.

"Just let go and fuck me harder," he said, his eyes meeting hers as he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. His hands were on her arse now, squeezing and pulling her onto him harder.

"Yes...that feels so good," she whimpered as his hands squeezed harder.

"You like that?" he said.

"Oh gods yes," she panted as she released her hands from the back of the chair and sat up straighter taking his cock in deeper than before.

"Just like that...yes...touch yourself Hermione, show me," he commanded as his on her hips hands pushed her back and forth on his cock. Her clit rubbing against him was the most delicious friction as her hands came up to pull and tug on her nipples, her head falling back in abandon.

One hand found her nub and she started to tremble, her walls clamped down on his cock and she felt herself losing focus and falling fast and hard.

"Gods you're beautiful. Yes, yes...that's it...come for me," he begged as he pumped harder up into her cunt.

"Oh, oh...harder...yes, oh gods," she screamed as she came with him.

Grabbing the back of her neck he pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. Fierce hunger replaced with tenderness that left her breathless once again.

She fell onto his chest and listened to the thrumming beat of his heart and felt his arms tighten around her, one hand caressing the long hair that fell onto her back.

She didn't remember falling asleep but when she woke she could see the sunlight streaming in through the dark curtains of what she imagined was his bedroom. Feeling the side of the bed she found that she was alone. Sitting up she pulled the sheets against her and stood to look for her clothes. Turning to find the loo she noticed a small note on the night table along with a small box containing three potion bottles.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _As promised here is the potion you requested._

 _It is in my opinion that they are ingredients wasted but alas the decision is yours._

 _Your humblest servant,_

 _SS_

Hermione found her clothes neatly folded on a chair by the loo. She showered and dressed quickly and when she found he wasn't there, she left for her flat. The potion box tucked discreetly in her bag she found she wasn't in a hurry to take them just yet.

As the days passed she ventured more outside her flat. She decided her first day back to work that week that she would not renew the glamour. At first she noticed the strange looks and the quick glances her way but in time she realized no one cared. Surely there were those that were repulsed, she could see it in their eyes but it didn't seem to faze her as it once did.

The box sat on the dresser in her bedroom, the three bottles of potion still ensconced.

A few months passed since her visit to the apothecary and she found she not only didn't want the potion, she wanted instead the potion master that brewed it.

She wasn't in love with the man but she wanted very much to revisit that sweet abandon he'd made her feel.

The bell dinged upon her arrival, the door creaking open signaled her arrival. The store was blessedly empty except for an old hag that was leaving just as she began to peruse the shelves. Her hair hung free around her shoulders and the scalloped blouse offered her a new type of freedom.

She tugged at her ear as forced habit and listened to his voice drift over her from behind the store.

"I'll be right out," he said.

Hermione fingered the worn wood of the shelf in front of her until she heard him move towards her.

"Can I help you," he drawled. She turned and heard his sharp intake of breath. She watched as his eyes took in her appearance and how they lingered on her scar, one that she now proudly wore for all to see. His lips quirked up at one corner and she smiled.

"I came to return this," she said, placing the small box with the three bottles still full on the shelf next to her, "I won't be needing it," she smiled.

"I see. Is there anything else I can help you with then Miss Granger?" his voice dangerously low as he took a step closer to her.

She took his hand in hers and led him upstairs.

She was sure there was a thing or two she could help _him_ with...


End file.
